We Adivasis have our own ways of naming new-borns. We have borrowed from rivers, forests, their land, days of the week, or a particular date, or even from their ancestors. But, with time, our right to name ourselves the way we wanted was snatched away from us. Organised religion and conversions took away this unique right. Our names kept changing, and were reassigned. When Adivasi children went to modern schools in the city, organised religion altered our names. The certificates they received were in the new names forced on us. This is how our languages, our names, our culture and histories got slaughtered. There is a conspiracy in naming. Today we are in search of that land that is connected to our roots, our history. We are in search of those days and dates marked with our existence.
Ranchi, Jharkhand
|TUE, AUG 09, 2022
A name and the conspiracy of naming
A statement by the first tribal President of India, ‘Droupadi was not my original name’, brings back painful historical memories to Adivasi communities, the earliest inhabitants of this country. The anguish she expressed has been shared by many Adivasis, like the poet here
Poem and Text
Painting
Editor
यह किसका नाम है?
मैं सोमवार को जन्मा
इसलिए सोमरा कहलाया
मैं मंगलवार को जन्मा
इसलिए मंगल, मंगर या मंगरा कहलाया
मैं बृहस्पतिवार को जन्मा
इसलिए बिरसा कहलाया
मैं दिन, तारीख़ की तरह
अपने समय के सीने पर खड़ा था
पर वे आए और उन्होंने मेरा नाम बदल दिया
वो दिन, तारीखें सब मिटा दी
जिससे मेरा होना तय होता था
अब मैं रमेश, नरेश और महेश हूं
अल्बर्ट, गिलबर्ट या अल्फ्रेड हूं
हर उस दुनिया के नाम मेरे पास हैं
जिसकी ज़मीन से मेरा कोई जुड़ाव नहीं
जिसका इतिहास मेरा इतिहास नहीं
मैं उनके इतिहास के भीतर
अपना इतिहास ढूंढ़ रहा हूं
और देख रहा हूं
दुनिया के हर कोने में, हर जगह
मेरी ही हत्या आम है
और हर हत्या का कोई न कोई सुंदर नाम है ।
Whose name is this?
I was born on Somwar, Monday,
so, I was called Somra.
I was born on Mangalwar, Tuesday,
so, I am Mangal, Mangar, or Mangara.
I was born on Bruhaspatiwar, Thursday,
that is why I was called Birsa.
I stood on the chest of time
like the days of the week,
but they came and they changed my name.
They destroyed those days and dates
that marked my being.
Now I am either Ramesh, Naresh, or Mahesh
or Albert, Gilbert, Alfred.
I have names from every one of those lands
whose soil hasn’t made me,
whose history is not my history.
I keep searching for my history
inside theirs and I realise
that each corner of this world,
in each place, I am the one being slaughtered
and each killing has a beautiful name.
Translated from Hindi by Pratishtha Pandya.
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